Katarina's return
by yelenam
Summary: KatxGaren short. Katarina returns from a long journey to the small piece of peace she and Garen managed to find several years ago. Rather soft, mellow characters compared to previous stories.


With a deep sigh, she let her hair fall freely down her back. Her scalp itched from having her hair pinned up the entire day, and she longed for the moment she could have a bath. Traveling through the Shurima desert was not her favorite pastime, and it did leave her skin covered in dust. Her skin crawled with the feeling of dirt, and she again she longed for the bath. Soon, she thought, relishing in the wonderful idea. But there was something she had to do first.

Opening the door to the small house on the outskirts of Demacia, she made sure none of the neighbors saw her enter. It would not do to be seen. She walked across the worn wooden floors, her soft leather boots making no noise. No assassin could walk noisily; it could only jeopardize everything. For a brief moment, she remembered how much time she had spent learning that skill when she had been a child. It certainly served her well now.

She made her way through the front room and the kitchen, looking around as she did. Nothing seemed out of place. The small house was clean and tidy, and eerily silent. She did not remember it being this silent. Despite her curiousness, she lingered downstairs, which consisted of living room and kitchen. Upstairs were the bedroom and the bathroom. When she could no longer stay downstairs, she made her way up the staircase and onto the landing. Ignoring the bathroom and the lovely bath that waited for her, she turned to look into the bedroom. It was a simple room, with a vast bed and a few bookcases filled to the brim with volumes on everything from herbs to military strategy. Some of them were hers, but she wasn't a heavy reader. Other than that, the bedroom contained a small working desk, pushed to the far wall. The candle atop it was lit, giving the room a soft glow.

She leaned against the doorframe, watching him work at the desk in the dim lighting. He had barely arrived, still wearing his shoes and not having bothered to unfasten his cloak. She heard the scratching of a quill, and presumed he was writing a report on something. For a moment she stood there in the doorway, watching him write. His dark hair was tousled after a long day at work, and there was a distinct set to his shoulders. He was tired.

"Are you going to stay over there all night?" He didn't turn around to look at her as he spoke. She smiled. Somewhere along her entry, he had heard her. Maybe he had even seen her enter the house. The scratching of the quill continued, as she started to slowly walk towards the bulk of a man seated at the desk. He almost seemed to big for the desk.

She put the pins she had used to hold her hair on the small dresser by the edge of the bed as she made her way over to the man by the desk. He still had not looked up, but kept writing his reports. She studied him in the light as she approached slowly, taking him in. It had been too long since she had seen him; she had forgotten how he looked when he worked.

With the utmost care, she drew her curved blades and placed them silently on the dresser next to the pins, followed by the leather belt she kept them in. Free of her main weapons, she continued over to the working desk by the window, and jumped up to sit on it, her back to the wall. The man looked up for a brief moment, irritated at the disturbance. He looked down again quickly, and reached to stabilize the ink bottle before the rushing movements of paper could knock it over and spill across his work. With a sigh, he corked the bottle and put it away with the quill. His blue eyes looked up at her again, properly taking her in. His flash of irritation was long gone, and a small smile spread on his face.

"You're late."

She cocked her head to the side, looking at him. "Were you expecting me?"

He brought his hand up to her face, caressing it. "Yes." She leaned into his touch; his large, calloused hands felt rough against her face, but she craved the contact. It had been too long. With a small smile, she brought her face down toward his. His smile turned predatory as he gave her a lingering kiss.

When he released her, she sighed with the memory of other kisses. The glint in his eyes was her reward.

"Missed me?"

"Yes. But I have a report to finish, and it can't wait."

She pouted, and ran her fingers through his hair. He sighed, closing his eyes at her touch. Maybe, she thought, she could get him to postpone his reports. He would have time to do them later. After all, she did not return to him every day. With a sigh of her own, she jumped off the desk as he resumed his reports.

As he focused on his work once more, she turned back to the dresser, and started removing the rest of her knife-filled straps. One after one they came undone under her touch, and she gently laid them atop the dresser. Done with the straps, she turned to her boots and removed them as well, placing them neatly by the dresser. With one last look over her shoulder at the man at the desk, deep in concentration, she walked out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. If she could not have his attention, then she would have a bath.

The warm water felt wonderful against her skin as she soaked, letting all the desert dust wash away. For days she had travelled as fast as she could so that she would see him again, and he had reports to do. She supposed she should not be too surprised at this - he had always been extremely thorough, sometimes to a fault, and he liked to be finished with one thing before he started another. Commanders and their procedures. When the water eventually cooled, she left the comfort of the bath and dried off. Her hair was a little tricky to dry completely, but she managed. She borrowed one of his white shirts to wear.

Upon entering the bedroom, she found that he had not moved, nor had he bothered taking off his cape and shoes. Standing behind him, she fingered the fastenings of his cape until they came undone. She let the cape fall to the floor in a heap; he would probably mind later, but at the moment she was not worried. He was so tidy.

She wrapped her arms around him and leaned forward to study his work. A report on how the new recruits were coming along. Boring things. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him looking at her while she studied his work. She turned her face slightly and gave him a quick kiss.

He turned back to his reports, and she turned her attention to the many straps and buttons on his uniform. Working them with familiarity, she got then undone one after one, and watched as his uniform came apart under her hands. He allowed her to lift the pieces off of him while he continued working, until he was only wearing his undershirt and pants.

For a few minutes she let her fingers work on his shoulders, before she slipped underneath his arm and settled in his lap, straddling him. "You work too much. You haven't even told me how beautiful you think I am."

A chuckle escaped him, and he moved to kiss her. She held her finger to his lips, stopping him. Though he was startled at first, he relaxed into an easy smile.

"You are always beautiful. Even more so wearing my shirts."

"Much better." She removed her finger and allowed him to kiss her. He smelled of a day's hard work under the sun, and she relished being in his arms. For a moment she felt something sharp prick into her back, and realized it was the tip of the quill. His shirt would be stained with ink.

When he pulled back, she moved to his neck, nuzzling it. He sighed, but he did not try to stop her. She moved on his lap, snuggling closer to him.

"No more working. Please?"

Her pout and soft kisses was rewarded with a groan as he surrendered his work and instead focused his attention on her. Dropping the quill, he moved his hands up and down her back as he held her as close as she could get. It was this she had travelled so hard for: his attention.

She leaned against the desk, watching him. His breathing slowed, and she started working on his buttons. Soon she had them all undone, and her hands was against his chest. For a moment it felt unreal that she had him here again. It had been weeks since she had last seen him.

His big hands was as efficient with her buttons as she had been with his, and soon he had her shirt undone. Pulling her close, he gave her another kiss. Abruptly he rose, pulling her with him and nudging the desk hard. She heard the bottle of ink topple and spill across his paperwork. He cursed, and was about to let her go to clean it up when she interrupted him and brought him to bed.

Hours later, he was back at the desk, working once again on his reports. He had had to mop up the spilled ink, and several of the nearly-finished reports had been ruined. She lay among the covers, snuggling into them for warmth, as she had when he had gotten up.

She watched him as he worked in the dim light, until the scratching of his quill became a lullaby, and she drifted off to sleep. She woke when the quill no longer moved against the parchment. Squinting in the dark room, she saw that he still sat at the desk, with a paper in his hand. Silencing a yawn, she wrapped herself in one of the blankets and got up, walking slowly towards him.

She leant over his shoulder, studying this piece of parchment as he had the other one. "Come to bed," she said, and gave him a kiss on his collarbone. His hand came to rest in her hair, holding her head to his shoulder.

"Soon, I promise. Go to bed, Kat."

Looking up at him from underneath her eyelashes, she pouted. He smiled ruefully, and gave her a quick kiss before he tried to push her away so that he could finish his work. She scowled at him, and refused to let go her grip. Her vivid red hair fell across the paper he held.

"Not until you join me. Reports are commander-business. You can be the commander of the Vanguard tomorrow."

He chuckled and turned to look at her. His thick hair fell into his piercing blue eyes, and she took a moment to appreciate just how handsome he was, and that he was hers. For the moment at least, he was hers. Until she had to leave again. Or until the prince sent him away for diplomatic duties, whichever came first.

She ran her fingers through his hair with a sad smile. What they had would end too soon for her taste, but she knew it would begin again. After all, whenever she returned to their small house on the edge of Demacia, he was always here, waiting for her.

"Do they still wonder why you won't marry?"

The question seemed to have taken him by surprise. For as long as she could remember, he had told her about his mother begging him to take a wife, but he had refused. When his surprise faded, he turned his eyes on her and smiled, before giving her a long kiss.

"No, Kat. They've given up." His eyes sparkled in the dim light, and he put the paper down at the desk. He stood from the chair and held her close, kissing the top of her head. She realized he had at least managed to wrap a blanket around his waist before going back to work.

Reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck, she smiled against his lips as she kissed him. She had known, deep down, that they would not make him marry anyone. He was hers, heart and soul, as she was his.

With a tired smile, she bent down to blow out the candle he had used for light. She kept his hand in his, and started walking back towards the bed.

"It's late, Garen. Come to bed."


End file.
